I Just Dance The Way I Feel
by theworldwillrolltheireyes
Summary: Based of CP Coulter's Dalton. This is basically a Shane centric kid!fic, it's kind of my headcanon of Shane growing up. I suck at summaries, but I hope you can look past that and have a read :


He is six years old and the tallest boy in his class. He ran the whole way home to tell his parents this, but Blaine is already there, grinning broadly.

"Look Shane! I won that writing award!" He gestures to a sombre looking certificate, now hanging in its place of glory on the fridge. His mother ruffles Blaine's hair and even his father looks quietly proud. Shane is silent, taking in the scene.

"Aren't you gonna say something, Shane?"

He bows his head for a moment, takes a deep breath and looks up.

"Way to go, Blainey!" He grabs his brother's arm and dances him around the kitchen, spinning wildly, his laughter loud and false in his ears.

"Shane, stop that."

His feet stop moving but he smiles inwardly as the kitchen continues to dance before him.

He is eight, when he learns that he's different. It's a day like any other. There are boys playing soccer and girls playing with their dolls and there is Shane, who doesn't seem to be playing at all. But it's okay because they're all wrong, he's got his own game and even though they don't know it, they're all playing too. He watches the boys playing soccer, and the scene transforms. The field is a stage and their boots are ballet slippers and he is smiling, without even realising it. Their playful, childish movements are now graceful, fluid and Shane is mesmerised. He doesn't plan on getting up and walking over to the performers. He doesn't feel the eyes following his every move as he too, joins this schoolyard recital. In fact, the only thing he recalls is the fist connecting with his face, and the sound of Blaine's voice as he tried to protect his little brother.

He is ten now, and they are sleeping. He doesn't bother tip toeing; he's already light on his feet. The door shuts with a soft click and his eyes widen at the scene before him. It wasn't as if he hadn't been here before. It was after all, his street. But right now, at this time, it's magic and Shane is awestruck at the beauty of it all and his own nerve. He begins to move to a non-existent beat, humming a tuneless song, taking comfort in the fact that he is alone. He dances without inhibition; there is no one here to outshine him.

He is twelve, as of yesterday and the excitement has yet to wear off. His fingers are tingling and it's like there are fireworks inside him and right now, as he's darting around the house, practically ricocheting off the walls, he feels as though if he got any happier he would just _burst_. So really, he should have been ready for the explosion. There is a crack and suddenly everything is in pieces. He cleans up the shards of glass and-_when did that get there anyway?_ By the time he reaches his room, his fingers are almost numb. He cries softly, unashamedly. It didn't matter if they heard; no one would come in anyway. He got what he deserved, they'd say and he cries harder because he cannot fault this. He doesn't hear the click as the door opens, and is unaware of the gentle, tuneful humming until he realises he is tapping along. He doesn't need to open his eyes to know who's there. It's Blaine. It's always Blaine and that was of course, his biggest blessing and most wretched curse. He is singing now, and louder. And like everyone else, Shane is spellbound by this creature before him, with the voice and heart of an angel. He is powerless to resist and, why would he? He stands, without hesitating and twirls around the room. He is dizzy and disoriented and in that moment, and every other, it is Blaine's voice, Blaine's presence that is stopping him from spinning out of control.

He is fourteen years old and Blaine's Little Brother. He's always been Shane, Blaine's little brother but in high school he's Blaine's Little Brother and he's okay with that, because he's scared that without that he'd disappear altogether. He walks with his head bent, eyes forward like he's following a trail of breadcrumbs, trying to find his way. Of course, that isn't the case as in actuality he feels as though he could make this journey with his eyes closed. He throws open the door, and collapses against the wall, eyes shut, breathing deeply. He begins to sing, quietly, just under his breath. His foot is tapping and he is smiling faintly, though his smile is threatening to grow. His eyes however, stay shut. So he can pretend, just for a moment that he is somewhere else. That instead of hiding in a storeroom at school, he is somewhere where people want to look at him. Somewhere where people _see_ him. He is grinning now, his movements wild and erratic and nothing like the beautiful steps he was capable of performing. But this wasn't about how he looked. This was about no one telling him to stop, this was about not being afraid, this was about dancing in the moonlight and having fire in his veins. This was _Shane_. Nothing more, nothing less. He falls to his knees and sits back against the wall, letting out an exhilarated laugh.

"…wow."

Of all the things he has been greeted with in his life, this was not something that was said to him often. Or ever, really. His eyes fly open and he stares in shock at the bespectacled boy in front of him. The boy who's blushing now, though he's staring right back. And it's in that moment, as this boy stares at him not in disgust or horror, but in something akin to awe, that everything suddenly stops spinning.

"Sorry I- just… wow. You're really… really good. I'm- I'm Micah."

He gapes for a moment as he tries to recall how to get his mouth to function.

"Hi… Hi Micah. I'm-"

"Shane," the boy interrupts.

"I know. You're Shane."


End file.
